A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime(51)

My heart drops. She’s not behaving normally. “Tell me.”

A sigh leaves her and she lifts her head, her misty-eyed gaze meeting mine. “We’re having to put a halt on big purchase spending for the moment. Large art pieces are costly. You know this.”

“But why? I don’t understand. Is business not going well for Daddy?”

A watery laugh escapes her. “Your father’s company is fine. Business is booming. The real estate market is doing better than it ever has.”

“Then what is it?”

“Your father wanted us to tell you this together, but he’s abandoned us as usual.” She sits up straighter, her chin tilting up. “We’re separated.”

I gape at her, the shock of her statement leaving me chilled to the bone. “What? I was just here last week for Thanksgiving and you two acted completely normal. You still live together.”

“We didn’t want to tell you yet, but he no longer lives here. He moved out a few weeks ago.”

“A few weeks ago?” I repeat, my voice weak.

“He wanted to wait until the beginning of the year, to get you through Christmas and your birthday first, but…there’s no point in keeping it from you any longer, darling. You deserve to know the truth. We’re getting a divorce. We’ve already hired attorneys and we’re currently in discussion about all of the assets we’ve acquired during our marriage, including the art.”

Mother waves her hand at a sculpture standing nearby, one that she loves.

“Divide it up?”

“He refuses to keep any of the pieces or split them up between us. Says if I want all of it, I have to buy him out.” A bitter laugh escapes her. “I’m not going to give up millions of dollars of my money to pay for art I already own. That’s ridiculous.”

I’m at a complete loss for words. I almost don’t believe her. Why would they get a divorce now? Won’t it be too complicated—and costly? They’ve been together for such a long time. Almost twenty-five years.

“For the settlement, we’ll end up dividing all of the art work and selling it. Every bit of it. I won’t be able to keep any of my pieces,” she continues, her eyes welling up with tears.

“Oh, Mama.” I haven’t called her that in years. Seeing her like this is breaking my heart. “I know how much all of it means to you.”

“Yes, yes, that’s true, but I’ll be fine. It’s all right. There will be an auction.” She sniffs, her fingers dashing away the tears on her face. “Every piece in the house will go. You probably shouldn’t have your new piece delivered here if you want to keep it.”

“Wait, what about the Colen piece in my bedroom?”

“It’s too valuable, Wren. Anything in the house will be included in the total collection that we acquired during our marriage,” Mother explains.

I blink away the tears forming. “But Daddy gave that to me for my birthday!”

“I’m so sorry, darling. There’s nothing I can do.” She takes another sip of her wine, as if that’s the end of the conversation.

Frustrated, I leave the sitting room and go to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me, not caring who hears it or if it makes someone angry. We’re not a house where yelling and big fights and slamming doors happens. Everything is discussed civilly. Quietly. With dignity.

Sometimes all that quiet dignity is annoying. Like my mother and how calm she was, announcing their impending divorce.

As I change out of my outfit into leggings and an oversized sweater, I can’t stop thinking about what my mother said.

How did I not see it? I know they don’t always get along. Daddy is always working. Traveling a lot. Out until late. I didn’t see him much at all when I was very young. He tried to be there for me as I got older, especially when the whole phone/forum mess happened. He worked less during that time, and he made sure to be there for our nightly family dinners. Sometimes he even helped me with my homework, though that wasn’t often and usually consisted of the two of us sitting in his home office while he worked on his computer. Mother always told him I needed a more solid relationship with him. A positive male role model so I wouldn’t grow up and have Daddy issues.

But then they sent me to Lancaster and I don’t see much of either of them. I’m not home for the day-to-day interactions. During the summer, they always plan lots of family trips. Though last summer we didn’t travel as much. Daddy was working.

Maybe it was fractured even then.

There’s a knock on my door and before I can say come in, it’s swinging open, Daddy standing there with an annoyed look on his face.

“Can I speak with you for a moment?”

I plop down on my bed, folding my legs close to my body and curling my arms around them. “Yes.”

He closes the door behind him and leans against it, watching me. “Your mother said she told you.”

I nod, not sure what to say.

“I wanted to tell you. The two of us together, as a united front,” he starts, but I talk over him.

“You’re really not united anymore though.”

A rough exhale leaves him and he scrubs the side of his face. “This isn’t how I wanted things to go.”

“Why are you forcing her to sell all of the art?” I ask, my voice small. My gaze goes to the piece hanging on the wall. My gift that wasn’t a gift at all. “She told me I can’t keep that.”